


Comfort

by SeekingValhalla



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm knee deep in DMC's ass so enjoy this, Injury, Major Character Injury, One Shot, he is the best, nero would be the best boyfriend, there is no other argument to be had
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 13:45:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18572704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeekingValhalla/pseuds/SeekingValhalla
Summary: Sometimes injuries bring better things than pain.





	Comfort

When the door to your small apartment opened, you lifted your head up from your sewing, a small frown on your face when you didn't hear Nero call your name the way he normally does. Actually, he wasn't saying much at all, and that concerned you. While you were standing to walk into the other room, the door shut quietly, and in contrast to that, there was a loud  _ thud _ . 

“Nero?” You asked, eyebrows knitting together as you threw down the shirt you were patching up and rushed to where he was. 

With wide eyes, you took in the puddle of blood forming on the ground, and the ragged cuts across the parts of his skin that were bare. Your breath caught in your throat, and you bent down to help him up off of the floor. 

“Don't put me on the couch,” he muttered, and your mouth fell open in disbelief.

“I'm going to put you wherever you  _ need _ to be put, Nero,” you said harshly, dragging him up to the couch despite his instructions not to. You couldn’t care about the furniture until you knew he wasn't going to bleed out and die. “What happened?” 

He laid his head back against the cushions, grimacing as you pried his hand away from his torso. Your hands were coated in blood just from holding his, and you were certain he could feel them trembling as you ripped his shirt further to get a better look at the cut. A long gash reached from the middle of his stomach to his back, and you swallowed.

“Nero,” you called his name again, applying pressure to the wound with one hand while lifting his head to look at you with the other. “You need to tell me what happened.” Both so that he would stay conscious, and so that you knew what type of demon inflicted the wound. 

While Nero was insistent on you never having to patch him up the way you did his clothes, you had taken to reading and learning as much as you could about first aid, and you had also pestered Dante for more information about demons, as well. Although you weren't much involved with the business other than the select few times you had come into direct contact with a demon yourself by accident, you were wanting to be more involved, at least so that you could help Nero. 

The way he looked at you made you both furious and worried at the same time. You had a loose, slippery grip on the back of his neck, and his eyes looked at you as though you were the only good thing he’s seen all day. And from the looks of it, you were. The faint smile that was on his face vanished when you applied more pressure, and was replaced by the scrunching of his face from agonizing pain.

“I was just helping Dante,” he breathed, as if that was an excuse you were accepting. “The fucking thing got me good, though.” He took a deep breath through his nose. “Sorry,” he apologized. Normally he didn't curse in front of you. It was strange, and you never had complained about it before, but he only slipped up when something was seriously wrong. “It’s not poisonous, or I don't think it is, anyway.”

“Where's Dante?” He would know more about how to handle this.

“Still fighting.” Nero cast his gaze away from you then, because he saw the determination on your face and didn't like what it meant.

“I can do it,” you told him, reaching over and grabbing the blanket from the arm of the couch and wrapping it around his torso as tightly as you could. You weren't going to give Nero the time to argue against this. “I read up on it, and I know  _ you _ know how to do it.”

“You shouldn't have to—”

“But I'm going to.”

In a minute, you returned to the room with a first aid kit in your hands, and Nero watched with as much attention as he could give as you took out a needle, sutures, and forceps. 

“When did you get all this?” He asked, biting into the collar of his jacket as you unwrapped the wound and got ready to begin stitching it up.

“A couple of weeks ago,” you answered him. “I'm sorry I don't have anything to numb you with,” you added softly, the needle poking through his skin. 

Nero bit further into his coat, only stopping to look down at your handiwork and half-heartedly direct you on what you were doing right and wrong. 

“It took  _ months _ to save up for this couch.”

You tied off the last suture, humming in confirmation.

“You’ve been patching our clothes up for months so that we could put money away for it.” 

“Yeah,” you confirmed again, pushing your hand flat against his chest to stop him from attempting to get up. 

“And now,” he began, disdain clear in his voice, and he only paused because you were wrapping his torso in proper bandages and it hurt. “There's going to be a massive stain on it because of me.”

You couldn't help but smile a little at how he put the blame on himself rather than you, but you weren't fond of how defeated he sounded. “You told me not to put you on the couch, but I did,” you mentioned, wiping your hands down with a towel. “However I had nothing to do with you getting the wound in the first place, so I guess it’s the fault of both of us.” You smiled wider when he did, and you leaned over to place your hands on both sides of him, hovering just above his face. “The couch doesn’t matter to me as much as you coming home alive does, but—”

He cut your words off by leaning up to meet his lips with yours, and when he pulled away, his typical grin was back on his face. “But if I could be a little more careful, you’d be happier,” he finished, and the roll of your eyes gave away your reply.

You’ve said it a million times before, so it was no surprise that he knew when to expect it. And  _ still _ , no matter how many times you said it, Nero was still reckless when it came to proving somebody wrong, or just trying to get the job done. 

“I'm working on it.” There was ernest in his voice that made you really believe he  _ was _ trying, and you kissed him on the forehead before pulling away. 

“I know,” you assured him. “I'll go make a bath so that we can finish cleaning all of your other cuts.” 

“ _ We? _ ” 

You didn't answer his teasing, instead walking into the bathroom and starting up the water. You dipped your hand into it to check the temperature, and when it sunk in that you were finally alone, tears flooded your vision. In moments you were crying too much for you to be able to cover it up, because your fear that something more terrible would happen to Nero in the future was looming over you. When you turned the water off, Nero called your name, probably wondering why you had stayed in the bathroom the entire time instead of coming back out to talk with him.

“Hold on!” You called back out to him, your voice cracking and giving away that you’ve been crying. You stood up from the ground and wiped at your eyes, trying to give yourself a moment to regain your composure until you heard Nero fumbling through the hall. More worried about him hurting yourself than you were about hiding that you’ve been crying, you rushed out into the hall and tucked yourself underneath your arm. “I would have helped you,” you huffed, turning your head away from him as you both walked into the bathroom. 

You could see him glancing down at your tear stained face through the corners of your eyes, and his expression turned even further into concern. His hand gently turned your face towards his, his mouth hung open in a silent question before he closed it again. You knew that look of remorse, and you didn't want him to start apologizing. 

“It's not your fault,” you told him, and as he steadied himself against the sink you helped him take his jacket off. After that, you backed off as he undressed further, knowing that insisting on helping him would just make him feel pitied and weak. 

“I  _ hate _ seeing you cry,” he muttered as he stepped into the bath. 

You knelt down next to the tub, running a hand through his short hair as you rested your head on your other arm. “I'm just scared of losing you.” Admitting that made a crease between his brows more prominent, and he pulled your hand from his hair to kiss the back of it. 

“I’m not going anywhere. I promised you that a long time ago.”

Deep down, you knew. Nero hates to break promises, and so you knew that he would do his best to keep it. But if the day ever did come, it wouldn't be his fault, just like this wasn't his fault. That terrified you more than you would like to admit, so instead you just smiled softly at him. 

“Yeah, you did. I just hate seeing you come home like this as much as you hate seeing me cry,” you said, dipping a washcloth into the water and carefully wiping around his fresh cuts. The two of you had grown accustomed to spending time together in this way, depending on who had the longest and roughest day. Usually, it was him. It basically became the rule that if he  _ didn't  _ come home injured, you automatically earned the relaxation. 

The two of you stayed in silence for a couple of minutes, and as he relaxed further, you did too. He was fine. He was injured, he would need a break, the living room was a mess, but he was  _ fine _ . Breathing. Closing his eyes and leaning into each of your gentle touches. 

He only opened his eyes when you stepped into the tub in front of him, hugging your legs to your chest. You could tell there was a teasing statement he was dying to make from the way the corners of his mouth quirked up for just a moment. Instead, he leaned his head on your knees, his arms gently wrapping your calves to inch you ever so slightly closer. 

He murmured your name. “I'm so lucky to have you,” he said, and followed those words with three more that you never tired of hearing. 

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my latest hyperfixation, DMC 5 and Nero. Partially a lie because I've loved DMC for a long time, but Nero caused me to jump headfirst back into it and I both love and hate him for it.
> 
> I AM in the process of writing other things, however my inspiration for them has been minimal and Nero is a welcome switch from writing Loki. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little one shot!


End file.
